


Shelter

by legendofthesevenstars



Category: Tenkuu no Escaflowne | The Vision of Escaflowne
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:48:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27168872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendofthesevenstars/pseuds/legendofthesevenstars
Summary: After a nightmare, Allen seeks reassurance from his mentor Balgus. Years later, Allen finds himself in his mentor's role when Van comes to him for the same reason.
Relationships: Balgus Ganesha & Allen Schezar, Van Fanel & Allen Schezar
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Shelter

The hut was cold in winter, and even underneath all the blankets, Allen was shivering, goosebumps covering his arms. He couldn’t seem to get warm, just like on the night Mother had died. He was trying to hold back his whimpers, but his teeth wouldn’t stop chattering, and his forehead felt oddly hot.

He hadn’t dreamt of the night of Mother’s death. He’d been alone in the dark woods, on the run from something he couldn’t see, leaves rustling and branches cracking underfoot. He hadn’t known where he was going, but when he tripped and fell, the presence had roared, seizing him with its claws and dragging him slowly under into the shadows, until he woke up in a cold sweat, curling into the blankets.

He was thirteen now. Nightmares shouldn’t scare him, but he still felt shaken. He’d never tried to wake Balgus up at night and wasn’t sure if he’d be punished. Usually, he’d try to go back to sleep, but he was growing weary of sleepless nights.

Pulling the blankets around his shoulders, he snuck out and into the room across the hall, where Balgus was asleep on his side, facing the wall. He crept up behind him and touched his shoulder, then grabbed it and shook gently, barely moving him.

Balgus grumbled, though he didn’t roll over to face him. “Allen?”

“I’m sorry to wake you, Master,” he whispered, stepping back as Balgus propped himself up with one hand to sit up, then turned around. Though Allen always felt intimidated by his single-eyed glare, it was fear born out of respect.

“Why are you awake so late?”

Allen pulled the blankets tighter. “I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m afraid.”

Balgus remained silent. Allen averted his eyes and continued, “I had a nightmare. I was alone. Something was chasing me, and… and it killed me.” He shivered. “I know I shouldn’t be scared. I know I have to be strong, but I’m—”

“Enough.”

Allen flinched. He met Balgus’ eyes.

“Tell me. What is the true source of your fear?”

Allen sunk to his knees, sitting on his feet. He looked at the floor again. The chill possessing his body reminded him of Mother. Mother, who had died because Celena was gone. Celena, who had disappeared after Father left.

“I don’t think it was being killed,” he said.

“It is natural to fear death. Even the strongest man may still fear it.”

“I know,” Allen said, though he doubted that Balgus had ever felt fear about anything. “It’s not death itself that scares me.” His throat felt tight. Tears began to burn behind his eyes. “If anything happens to me—”

“Nothing will happen to you while I draw breath.”

“If anything happens to you, then—” A tear slipped out of the corner of his eye. “If you die, I’m going to be just like I was before!”

He burst into tears. The blankets shuffled next to him, and Balgus set his hand on his shoulder. Removing his feet from under him, Allen hugged his legs to his chest and set his chin against his knees, sniffling and hiccupping through his sobs.

“I will not die before I see you grown into a man,” Balgus said firmly, patting Allen’s shoulder once.

“But what if you do?” Allen was shaking, trembling again. “If you die, I’m going to be _alone_!”

“I will not die.”

“You don’t know that!”

“My purpose gives me the strength to live. As your purpose should give you that same strength. Do you not believe in your own strength?”

Allen’s heart plummeted into his stomach when he realized the answer lingering on the tip of his tongue was “no.” Swallowing his tears for a moment, he said, “I’m so afraid. I have no purpose. I have no one. How can I believe in my own strength when I’m so afraid of being on my own?”

“Because one day you will have to make it on your own.”

“Don’t talk about that!” Shrugging Balgus’ hand off his shoulder, he stood up. “I don’t want to be on my own. I don’t want to be alone!”

Balgus remained silent, meeting Allen’s eyes with his single eye. His expression hadn’t changed, still stoic as ever. Allen’s eyes were watering anew. Balgus couldn’t replace Mother. He would never give the hugs she had given. He would never understand like she had. But the more he thought about losing his master, the more his heart hurt. Without Balgus, he’d be alone again. Without him, Balgus would be alone.

Allen hesitated for only a moment before he knelt and threw his arms around Balgus’ neck, burying his face in his shoulder. He felt a hand on his back a moment later, and a gentle rumble as Balgus hummed a sad melody he’d always sung when they worked in the garden.

Balgus did not have to say again that he would not die; Allen understood why he was so determined not to. But the realization, though comforting, only made him cry harder, because he knew what happened to anyone who loved him and tried to protect him.

—

Since they’d left Freid, Allen hadn’t been able to sleep solidly. Though the wound in his side had closed, his time in Freid had reopened old wounds and created new ones in his heart. Leaving Chid with a country in ruins and without a father weighed on his mind. Of course the boy couldn’t see Allen as his father; he’d lost his father on the battlefield, which was what hurt most of all. Allen hadn’t been able to do anything to stop him, to save him.

To ease a little of the nausea that came from the tightly bound nerves in his stomach, he paced the halls, then made his way to one of the side decks. Someone, probably Reeden or Kio, was serving as the night pilot; thrown off balance by the death of the Duke and the arrival of that insufferable Dryden, he’d left Gaddes in charge of things for a couple days. The _Crusade_ was flying onward at a slow, steady pace, and the night breeze on the open deck tousled his hair.

The distant rush of footsteps down the hall came closer. Allen turned slightly and saw a flash of red, then the swirl of black hair as Van clutched the railing with his ungloved hands, leaning over and gasping for breath. Allen’s shock quickly turned to stern understanding. He did not set his hand on Van’s shoulder, but watched him out of the corner of his eye. Van was just like Allen had been at his age, so unwilling to soften around anyone, but wanting nothing more than to open up to someone. If Balgus had taught him anything, it was best to be patient and remain distant.

Allen watched the stars pass by as Van’s ragged breathing evened out. He flinched when Van’s hand suddenly brushed his shoulder, clutching his sleeve. Allen turned to face him, and Van raised his head. His face was mottled red, bangs damp with sweat, eyes shimmering.

Van’s face tensed before his features broke down and he said, barely audible, “When will it stop?” When Allen didn’t respond, he continued, “Every night, I…”

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Allen said gently. “I understand.”

Van gripped Allen’s shoulders, lowering his head. “I… I shouldn’t have, but I…”

Allen breathed a silent sigh through his nose. How could he possibly talk about what he’d done? He was barely an adult, and he’d killed all those men from Zaibach by his hand. Obviously, it was still too hard for him. Allen knew it never got easier, but he didn’t want to tell Van that right now. Not while he was quivering and whimpering, tears dripping down his nose and onto the floor.

“I understand,” Allen repeated. Van lifted his head to look at him. He offered Van a small smile, and Van shut his eyes, suddenly burying his head just below Allen’s shoulder, his frame racked by sobs.

Gripping the railing with one hand, Allen rested his other hand on Van’s back, standing solidly in place as Van trembled. Recalling the first time Balgus had comforted him—that he’d let himself be comforted—he began to hum the tune he remembered him singing. Van hiccupped loudly, then he wailed, digging his fingers into the back of Allen’s shirt. The incoherent, agonized cry startled Allen out of his humming.

“Don’t stop,” Van said, his voice choked by tears.

Allen picked up where he’d left off, and Van’s sobs slowly subsided as his trembling body relaxed. With his free hand, he searched his pockets for his handkerchief, intending to give it to Van, but Van suddenly broke away from him, offering him only a sheepish glare and a frown.

“Thank you.”

Then he ran back inside before Allen could respond. Allen shrugged, laughing quietly to himself. Van was lucky there were people here to support him. But not having Balgus around seemed to trouble him more than Allen would have expected. Just how close had Van been to the man? Balgus was from Fanelia. Van was the king; that meant his parents, at least, were dead. If they’d died years ago, Balgus had likely raised Van. That meant without Balgus, he was likely feeling alone regardless of all the company.

They must have been close. Van hid his emotions just like Balgus, but he’d still sought Allen out. Maybe it had been their connection to Balgus that had driven Van to look for him. Did he remind Van of their swordmaster? Balgus would want him to protect Van. Allen had already resolved to do that. He’d given Van the word of a Knight Caeli, and it was now his duty to ensure he was never alone, whether on or off the battlefield. Van would come out the other side of this stronger, and Allen refused to let him die.


End file.
